Pick Your Favorite Story Line

In the last couple of posts, I haven’t had much to write about. Not a problem today. I had issues with equipment, clothing, and heat. But, it all started with a ticket.

Expired Plates

I got a ticket on Wednesday while my car was in the parking garage. Not for parking illegally, or for not having a permit, but for having expired license plates. They were expired exactly 30 days, and I’m wondering if the police officer had seen them before and was driving by every day until the 30 day grace period passed.

Anyway, I didn’t have time to get to the License Branch on Thursday, so today was the day. This was also my first ride to work since last Wednesday. (It’s been rainy all week.) At 11:30 after a meeting, I headed east to the Lafayette Branch.

Now, I could have gone to the much closer West Lafayette Branch, but a crazed former staff member now works there, and I’d rather not see her. (The last time I saw her was seven years ago when she threw her office keys at me and stormed out of the building. What a psycho!) So, I crossed the river and took 4th street to Greenbush and on to Market Square. I had to lock the bike on a post since there was no bike rack to be found.

The lady at the front desk told me about the 30 minute wait, but then told me that if I was paying with a card I could use the self-service machine in the entry way . I was, and I did, and I was out in 10 minutes.

I couldn’t decide where to grab lunch. I wanted something different – like Chinese food – but couldn’t think of how I would carry it back to the office with just my one pannier bag that was already stuffed with stuff. It was at the corner of Erie and Salem where I turned the grip shift to come down to a smaller cog when I heard (and felt) the distinctive sound of a cable snapping. The chain dropped to the easy cog, and I pedaled at too high of an RPM back over the river to the bike shop.

They offered to fix the cable while I waited, but I instead asked them to adjust new wheel and its brakes, and to look at my squeaky seat. It was promised to be done by 5:00.

As I was standing at the service window explaining my troubles, I noticed that I was very hot. I probably would have been anyway, but crossing downtown in the granny gear surely didn’t help. I walked across the parking lot to Wendy’s for lunch, and waited outside for the Trolley, which took me back to work. I was a sweaty, sunburned mess by the time I got back to my desk. I’m glad I didn’t have any meetings with big wigs!

No Bike Rack at Wendy's
No Bike Rack at Wendy’s

The Trolley took me back to the bike shop after work, and everything was ready to go. I biked over to the Wendy’s and use their men’s room to change clothes (no bike rack there either). I rolled out of the parking lot and through the evening traffic to get to South River Road. The bike lane was full of gravel, and the bumps were jarring my hands. That’s when I noticed that I wasn’t wearing my gloves.

I had left them resting on the rack while I secured my helmet, and they must have fallen off. I pulled a U-turn and biked back to Wendy’s and found them just out of the parking lot – in the right tire track. They looked pretty flat, as if several cars had run them over. I grabbed them and rode home. For some reason, I felt very tired and sloth-like.

Miles Ridden: 16.1

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